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Authors: Sabrina Jeffries

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He narrowed his gaze on her. “I’m sure she has. My cousin loves gossip.”

“No more than you love to provide fodder for it, from what I’ve heard.”

“I do enjoy giving the gossips something to talk about.”

“No doubt they appreciate it. Otherwise they’d be limited to poking fun at spinsters, and then I would never get any rest.”

He snorted. “I’d hardly consider you a spinster, madam. My cousin tells me this is your first season.”

“And hopefully my last.” As the other fellows protested that, she said, “Now, now, gentlemen. You know I’m not the society sort.” She fixed Warren with a cool look. “I do
better with less lofty companions. You, my lord, are far too worldly and sophisticated for me.”

“I somehow doubt that,” he said.

“I hear the dancing starting up,” Clarissa cut in as she released his arm. “Perhaps you two can puzzle it out if you stand up together for this set.”

He had to stifle his laugh. Clarissa wasn’t usually so clumsy in her social machinations. She must really like this chit. He was beginning to understand why. Miss Trevor was rather entertaining.

“Excellent idea.” He held out his hand to the young lady. “Shall we?”

“Now see here,” Pitford interrupted. “Miss Trevor has already promised this dance to me.”

“It’s true,” she told Warren. “I’m promised for all the dances this afternoon.”

Hmm
. Warren turned to Pitford. “Lord Fulkham was looking for you earlier, old chap. He’s in the card room, I believe. I’ll just head there and tell him he can find you dancing with Miss Trevor.”

Pitford blanched. “I . . . er . . . cannot . . . that is . . .” He bowed to Miss Trevor. “Forgive me, madam, but I shall have to relinquish this dance to his lordship. I forgot a prior engagement.”

The fellow scurried off for the gates as fast as his tight pantaloons would carry him. Probably because the wretch owed Fulkham a substantial sum of money.

Pitford’s withdrawal was all it took for the other two gentlemen to excuse themselves, leaving Warren alone with his cousin and Miss Trevor.

With a smile, he again offered his arm to Clarissa’s friend. “It appears that you are now free to dance. Shall we?”

To his shock, the impudent female hesitated. But she obviously knew better than to refuse a marquess and quickly recovered, taking the arm he offered.

As they headed toward the lawn where the dancing was taking place, Miss Trevor said, “Do you always get your way in everything, Lord Knightford?”

“I certainly try. What good is being a marquess if I can’t make use of the privilege from time to time?”

“Even if it means bullying some poor fellow into fleeing a perfectly good party?”

He shot her a long glance. “Pitford is deeply in debt and looking for a rich wife. I should think you would thank me.”

She shrugged. “I know what Pitford is. I know what they all are. It matters naught to me. I have no interest in any of them.”

Pulling her into the swirl of dancers, he said, “Because you prefer some fellow you left behind at home? Or because you have your sights set elsewhere in town?”

Her expression grew guarded. “For a man of such lofty consequence, you are surprisingly interested in my affairs. Why is that?”

“I am merely dancing with the friend of my cousin,” he said smoothly. “And for a woman who has ‘no interest’ in the three fortune hunters you were just with, you certainly found a good way to get them vying for your attention.”

She blinked. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“The clasp on that bracelet wasn’t broken, Miss Trevor.” When she colored and glanced away, he knew he’d hit his
mark. “So I can only think that you had some other purpose for dropping it into the fountain.”

As they came together in the dance, he lowered his voice. “And if it wasn’t to engage those men’s interest in you personally, I have to wonder what other reason you might have to risk losing such a sentimental heirloom. Care to enlighten me?”

© Jessi Blakely for Tamara Lackey Photography

SABRINA JEFFRIES
is the
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of several Regency-set historical romance series, including the Royal Brotherhood, The School for Heiresses, The Hellions of Halstead Hall, The Duke’s Men, and The Sinful Suitors. Whatever time is not spent writing in a coffee-fueled haze is spent traveling with her husband and adult autistic son or indulging in one of her passions: jigsaw puzzles, chocolate, music, and costume parties. With more than eight million books in print in twenty languages, the North Carolina author never regrets tossing aside a budding career in academics for the sheer joy of writing fun fiction, and hopes that one day a book of hers will end up saving the world. She always dreams big.

FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR:
authors.simonandschuster.com/Sabrina-Jeffries

MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT

SimonandSchuster.com

Also by Sabrina Jeffries

THE SINFUL SUITORS SERIES

The Study of Seduction

What Happens Under the Mistletoe

(with Karen Hawkins, Candace Camp, and Meredith Duran)

The Art of Sinning

THE DUKE’S MEN SERIES

If the Viscount Falls

How the Scoundrel Seduces

When the Rogue Returns

What the Duke Desires

THE HELLIONS OF HALSTEAD HALL SERIES

A Lady Never Surrenders

To Wed a Wild Lord

How to Woo a Reluctant Lady

A Hellion in Her Bed

The Truth About Lord Stoneville

THE SCHOOL FOR HEIRESSES SERIES

Wed Him Before You Bed Him

Don’t Bargain with the Devil

Snowy Night with a Stranger

(with Jane Feather and Julia London)

Let Sleeping Rogues Lie

Beware a Scot’s Revenge

The School for Heiresses

(with Julia London, Liz Carlyle, and Renee Bernard)

Only a Duke Will Do

Never Seduce a Scoundrel

THE ROYAL BROTHERHOOD SERIES

One Night with a Prince

To Pleasure a Prince

In the Prince’s Bed

BY SABRINA JEFFRIES WRITING AS DEBORAH MARTIN

Silver Deceptions

By Love Unveiled

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1995, 2016 by Deborah Martin Gonzales

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